Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
by Chelsea Oz
Summary: I'm on a Christmas kick and I don't know why. This is a one shot for GSAW and it's Jem's last christmas. It takes place at the Landing and a lot is revealed yet unsaid during a riverside chat between him and his sister.


"I'm going to the river," I told Atticus that Christmas Eve night in 1953.

"Okay, son. Be careful; the tide is running high," Atticus replied, never looking up from his paper.

"Yes, sir," I say as I step out into the cold early winter night. I don't bother to put on shoes but I immeadiatley began to regret it as I went along. I wouldn't walk on Finch's Landing's soil any other way though. I thought it an honor to be on this turf and my barefeet would somehow benefit from walking on it's own roots. I did however bring a blanket and a pack of cigarettes; they will be enough to keep me warm.

With only moonlight and starlight to help me see, I plunk my ass down on probably the dampest piece of grass I could have found. Smart move, dumbass was all I could think to myself. I pull out my cigarette pack and pick the fatest one out of the bunch and then light it up as fast as I can. I don't rub the flame from the match off right away and I let it burn down to my fingers. The flame heat on my hand and the heat the cigarette going down my throat helped me to warm up quick. With a quick wrap-around of my blanket around my shoulders, I am feeling quite comfortable.

"Can I have one?" I hear my sister whisper to me out of nowhere.

"Jesus, Jean Louise!" I say with a jump. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," she said, not sorry. "I want to join you."

"Well, you can," I tell her as I offer her a cigarette. She takes it and helps herself to one of my matches. She, too, has brought a blanket to wrap around her shoulders while she breathes the cigarette in deep. I watch her as she exhales, wraps her arm around my shoulder and gives my cheek a kiss.

"What was that for?" I asked, taken off guard by her kiss.

"I don't know," she says shrugging her shoulders and inhaling another puff.

"You're weird," I said, inhaling myself.

"So aren't you," she exhales again.

"Where's Hank?"

"Inside," she says giving the cigarette a flick. "He fell asleep already. What a doofus!"

"You're right he is," I agree.

"Usually you would stick up for him when I would call him names. You certainly act like you have a change of heart."

She hit a nerve when she said that. I'm a big brother; big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters. Jean Louise and I have been raised to believe that all men were created equal; to never judge a person by their skin color and/or circumstance until proven otherwise. We did not learn this from church but from the courtroom. Me and my sister can vouch that we learned more about humanity in a courtroom session than a whole year in church school. After working with Hank and Atticus, it's become clear to me how much their own personal ideals aren't really as pure as Jean Louise always likes to believe. It's going to be one of those things she's going to have to learn for herself the hard way just like I did.

"Hank is Hank," I finally say after an awkward silence. Jean Louise shoots me a look like she knew there was a lot more I wanted to say but didn't. She's nobody's fool; she's as sharp as a tac and if you cross her, you are going to feel it. God help Hank and Atticus when they reveal themselves.

"Yeah, you're right," she says, taking another drag. "Once you get passed the cold, it's nice out here."

"Yeah," I agree, taking a look around. I fling my cigarette butt into the shoreline and get up. "I better get going. I need to get to Sara Ann's by morning."

"I'm sad you have to go so soon," she says, getting up with me.

"Don't be," I said as I brushed myself off. "You still have doofus to keep you company."

"Not funny," she says, punching my arm. "I want my brother around."

I just look at her and laugh. My sister really is precious, I guess. I lean in to give her a small peck on the lips and a big bear hug. Something tells me I better enjoy this time with her.

"Merry Christmas, Jem," she tells me.

"Merry Christmas, Scout," I say, finally letting her go.

"Don't you think I'm a little too old for "Scout"?

"No, you'll always be "Scout" to me," I tell her. She smiles big because she knows I meant it.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she said as we walk into the house with our arms linked and her head on my shoulder.

"Sad, isn't it?"


End file.
